City of Angels
by yllanna
Summary: Randy Orton is suspended for 60 days so he moves out to L.A. to party hard and rebel against the 'Man'. Old memories and past demons begin to haunt him and his life spirals out of control. One long-legged former diva just might be the one to save him.
1. Control

City of Angels

_Summary: Randy Orton is known for throwing his own illegal parties backstage and in hotel rooms. But when Randy is suspended for sixty days, he does exactly what the WWE expects him not to do - he parties even harder in L.A. One night, he reconnects with Stacy Keibler, an old friend with whom he shares a dark history. This story deals with themes of drugs, violence and depression. _

_There will be a lot of brief appearances from other characters in the WWE. Expect 'regular' appearances from Triple H, Ric Flair, Batista, Shawn Michaels, John Cena, Edge, The Undertaker, Stephanie and Vince McMahon. The Rock might also make an appearance :)_

* * *

The summer sun kissed his tan skin as water coursed through every ripple and curve of his torso. Fashioned like one of Michelangelo's masterpieces, Randy Orton stood on the edge of the hotel's rooftop pool under the blazing California sun. Twenty laps and a Long Island Iced Tea for breakfast were just some of the standard procedures to his day. He settled on the edge of a lounge chair and slung a striped towel over his shoulders. Behind him, a leggy brunette flipped through the latest issue of Italian Vogue. Her name was Carmen, but that was not important.

"So how long will you be in L.A.?" asked Carmen, setting down the magazine.

With his back turned, he shrugged.

He didn't know.

As far as he knew, the producers were not allowing him to wrestle unless he got his act together. Vince McMahon told him he had sixty days to straighten up, and if he didn't get his life fixed by then, he would be gone. He didn't know whether to believe Vince or not. He was a commodity, a household name, and a damn good wrestler. The top-dogs would never have the balls to fire him. So what if he came late and skipped out on meetings? So what if he refused to interact with the fans? So what if he treated the rest of the roster like shit? So what if he treated his own body like a test dummy for illegal substances? He was in control of his own life and that was all that mattered.

"Randy," she called out again, "are we hanging out again or what?"

He stood up and lifted his Raybans over his eyes. He began to walk away when she called out his name. She didn't seem too peachy.

"Randy, where the fuck do you think you're going?"

He slowly turned his head toward her, "I'm going to my room and you're leaving. Your stuff will be waiting for you outside the door. "

He watched her jaw drop; a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

* * *

Finding himself alone in his hotel room and an opportunity to score some goods free of charge, he picked up Carmen's oversized handbag. He set the coral-coloured, leather monstrosity on his bed and dug through its contents. Blackberry, keys, ID, furry handcuffs, mints, mascara, and a Ziploc bag of his favourite white powder.

He loved the feeling of pushing the limits yet still having some semblance of control. Drugs gave him that opportunity. If he wanted a distraction, he had dope; and if he wanted energy, he had coke. Pain meds were his weakness though. It was one thing to want to feel something but it was a completely different thing to want to feel nothing.

He threw the bag across the hall and locked the door behind him. He slid the bag between his teeth and unzipped the edge to cut a clean line on the bedside table. Pressing a finger against his left nostril, he snorted the white substance. He could feel his eyes glaze, his muscles tense, and his breath accelerate.

* * *

It was an impulse decision, like many of his more recent decisions.

Produced in the early seventies and with just a little over a hundred like it, Randy purchased a midnight blue Ferrari Daytona as soon as he decided L.A. was the perfect place to get away from the WWE and his disillusioned family. He parked the car and twirled the keys on his finger before shoving them into his jeans. After kicking Carmen out of his hotel room, he realized getting coked up by himself wasn't much fun at all. He figured he would drive down to a trendy, new club at West Hollywood. Perhaps he would finally get lucky and actually score someone more famous than a model.

As soon as he arrived at the entrance of the club, he took a few steps back at the mix of press and paparazzi. The club had rolled out a red carpet and an assembly line of young Hollywood and reality stars posed for the cameras. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to make an appearance on some silly tabloid. No one knew he was in L.A. and he planned to keep it that way.

He forced a path behind the plywood wall that served as the stars' background and squeezed his way through a crowd of bodyguards and publicists. A bouncer quickly spotted him and barred his way. As soon as Randy looked up to meet his face, a wide grin formed on both their faces.

"Orton!"

"Masters!

"What the fuck are you doing here?" asked Chris Masters, pulling his old friend into a hug.

"Oh, you know, man. I got myself into a little trouble." Randy smirked. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, ever since Vince fired me I knew I needed to get a job right away to pay for my fucking credit card bills."

Chris had been fired after the WWE implemented a Wellness Policy which tested wrestlers regularly for drugs. It had taken three strikes for Randy to finally be suspended, but it had taken a low-carder like Chris one strike and one urine sample to prove he had steroids in his system. He was kicked out of the company immediately. A lot of the guys in the roster resented Randy for his special treatment so he wasn't sure how Chris would react to seeing him. He seemed quite surprised more than anything.

"I heard about your suspension, man. It must be rough," said Chris.

"It has its perks."

"Trying to score tonight?" Chris smirked, "I see things haven't changed."

Randy merely smiled at him. Yes, things hadn't changed since Chris and Randy became friends in mid-2007. The guy didn't know just how much had changed before that summer. Chris didn't know him well enough, and anyone who did no longer cared enough to know the difference.

Randy shoved his hands in his pocket and cocked his head towards the door. Chris took the message and lifted the velvet rope to the club. Randy patted his friend on the back, "I owe you one, man."

* * *

The electro-pop music blared through the speakers as throngs of scantily-clad women grinded against their partners on the dance floor. Randy leaned against the bar with his fourth rum and coke. A couple of women had already come up to him and asked if he wanted to dance but he turned them down. He had never recognized them so they weren't fulfilling his objective. He spotted a few actresses but they all seemed like they were attached to their boyfriends' sides. Just as he was about to settle on any attractive stand-in, a girl with long brown hair leaned over the bar and asked for two Jaegerbombs.

"Hey," a warm whisper tickled his ear.

Randy turned to her and he didn't know if he was supposed to respond. He recognized her. She was an actress, and at one point, he even found her quite hot. Standing in front of him, she had packed on a couple of pounds and her dishevelled appearance just showed how much her life had spiralled out of control. Randy shook her hand and forced a smile.

"I'm Mischa."

"I know."

"Oh, you do?" She smirked. Randy studied her features. She was still beautiful but the smeared eyeliner, the homeless get-up, and the silly jewel-encrusted headband across her forehead turned him off. She might have been an actress but she was too washed-up to fit the bill. He didn't mind girls who took drugs but she had gone beyond that and let the drugs take control of her.

Randy pushed himself off the bar, "If you'll excuse me."

* * *

As Randy set his empty glass on a table, he caught a familiar pair of legs right at the corner of his eye. There was no way you could miss them. He looked up to see a memorable face and his heart sank. For the first time in a long time, he could feel a sense of vulnerability wash over his dominant frame.

She averted her attention as soon as she realized a pair of baby-blues was affixed on her back. With Randy's feet planted on the concrete floor of the club, the blonde woman walked towards him and gave a faint smile.

"Randy," she kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He managed to loosely wrap his arm around her waist before she pulled away.

"Stacy."

"So..." she trailed off before she turned to her friend behind her. Randy glanced over Stacy's bare, sun-kissed shoulder to a guy with a head of thick, blonde hair. "What's up?" she asked, retrieving Randy's attention.

"Not much. Just hanging out in L.A."

"I heard you were suspended," Stacy paused and watched as Randy's head hung low, "I'm sorry about that."

"Are you?"

Her eyebrows shot up, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, Stace. Last time we talked, you told me you wished I had died." Randy crossed his arms over his chest and Stacy took note of the new tattoos. "Isn't getting fired close enough?" He added.

"That was over a year ago, Randy. I was so caught up with everything that happened and –"

"And I wasn't?" yelled Randy.

It was a good thing you could barely hear anything besides the music in the club, but Randy's loud remark caught the attention of a few people standing nearby including the man whom Stacy was speaking to earlier.

"You certainly weren't showing it." It had been close to two years and for a long time those thoughts hadn't resurfaced in her mind, but it was now returning and fighting back. The emotion was crawling back inside of her and she could feel the electricity concentrating on her fingertips.

Randy scoffed, "You have no fucking idea."

"I'm not having this conversation again, Randy." Stacy shook her head as she felt a pair of hands rest on her shoulders. She turned up to look at her date.

"Is this guy bothering you, Stace?" He asked. Stacy shook her head in response.

Randy rolled his eyes and began to turn around when he felt someone grip his left shoulder.

"What's your fucking problem, man?"

Randy raised an eyebrow. Stacy stood motionless behind her friend; she couldn't even look at them.

"What?" he asked, "suddenly you don't want to talk?"

Randy blinked. He was so tired of stupid bar fights with people he didn't even know. He was twenty-eight years old and by the looks of the blond, he didn't look any younger. It was so petty. Randy attempted to walk away for a second time but almost lost his balance after Stacy's friend had pushed him. Before he could even think, he threw a fist right into the blond's left cheek.

He fell to the floor. Stacy crouched and assisted him as a crowd gathered around them.

The third time didn't prove to be the charm as Randy had hoped. When he attempted to leave for the last time, security stopped him and escorted him out of the building. Security led him past Chris Masters who looked absolutely perplexed, and they tossed him right on the curb.

"We won't be seeing you here again," spat one of them.

Randy picked himself off the floor and looked at the sight before him. The night had been filled with so much promise but it was utterly disappointing. He couldn't stand the cameras, the vapid California girls, their douchebag boyfriends and the nauseating music. He didn't belong there, and as he was walking towards his car, he considered leaving the city for good.

* * *

"I saw you tonight and I liked it," said a voice. It was a voice that had at least twenty years of chain-smoking experience and it belonged to the petite woman leaning on the hood of his car. Normally he would have protested at the sight of someone laying a finger on his baby, but the woman exuded confidence and power. He watched as she pushed herself off and walked towards him.

"Angela McBride. Agent. Interested in getting to know you, Mr. Orton."

He watched as her dainty, manicured fingers slipped a business card into the pocket of his shirt. She turned around and walked away; but before she was engulfed in the L.A. street fog, she raised an arm and said, "Call me."

* * *

_Let me know if you enjoyed it. Please read and review. _

_Much love, friends._


	2. Shutter Speed

City of Angels

A/N: _Hey guys, I hope you're liking the story so far - if you are reading it. Anyway, please review. I don't want to come across as starved for attention, but like any human being I'd like to receive some sort of feedback. Thanks!_

* * *

Randy glanced up at the sign and back down into the address he had programmed into his iPhone. It was definitely the right address but he was unsure if it were the right place for him.

The business card proposition from a week ago turned out to be a modelling offer. Angela McBride worked in an advertising agency. She was working on a project for Calvin Klein's underwear line and when Randy had called her, she raved about how much he fit the part for the conceptual shoot. Randy was hesitant at first. He never had any modeling experience besides looking tough for WWE programs and posters.

Had he been wrestling, he would have probably turned down the offer, but L.A. and the monotony of it all was beginning to get boring. He was so used to travelling and wrestling three-hundred days a year, and hanging out in a hotel room while watching Tarantino movies was wearing him out. The twenty-thousand dollar pay check also helped him make the decision.

* * *

When Randy arrived in the studio, the receptionist led him into the male dressing room where he met two other up and coming models. The three couldn't have looked more different. The youngest of the three had a preppy, boy band appeal with his Chace Crawford. The African American had a body like Batista's and a face like Taye Diggs. He didn't really know what was going on or what kind of concept the photographer had in mind. But he was definitely going to bolt if he had to pose in his underwear with these guys.

One by one, the models were called into set. A sigh of relief escaped Randy's lips as he realized that they didn't have to model together. Randy sat on the stool for a good hour before the two models were done with their part of the shoot. No one came in the dressing room to tell him to get dressed – or undressed – and no one had applied any make-up. Not that he didn't mind.

Just then, Angela walked in with the make-up artist who had worked on the previous models.

"Randy, I'm glad you came. This is Veronica," she motioned to the bespectacled girl, "  
she's our make-up artist and I told her to go easy on you. We're going for this edgy, rough and tumble look for you so we'll keep the concealer to a minimum."

Angela handed Randy a paper bag, "Your underwear is in here. Get dressed and we'll see you there in fifteen."

* * *

He walked across a ramp and wrestled with other men in nothing but a pair of spandex Speedos, but something about a pair of briefs that had no support made him feel a little apprehensive. He wrapped the white bathrobe around his body and walked into set. Studio lights surrounded a king-sized bed. Silk pillows and sheets were strewn across the mattress. Three women knelt on top of it as the photographer snapped a few test shots.

Randy's eyes widened when one of the models flipped her hair and turned to his line of sight.

She shared the same shocked expression. It had been exactly a week since they ran into each other in the club and Randy was certain that it would be the last time. After all, he was banned from the club. It was bad enough he has to get in front of the camera and pretend like he knew what he was doing, but now he had to share this experience with her.

Stacy felt knots form in her stomach as Randy fixed his gaze on her. She turned her head and mentally shook the thoughts from invading. She needed to focus. She had a job to do.

Randy peeled off the bathrobe and settled in the middle of the bed as the three girls surrounded him. He and Stacy had exchanged looks but they weren't attempting any small talk. The two other girls were quick to get their hands on Randy's body. He smirked, realizing that he was instantly warming to the idea of modelling.

Markus, the photographer, began to direct the shoot but he felt a sort of uneasiness present in every shoot. He called Angela and they spoke briefly. Worry washed over Randy. Sure, he wasn't a professional but he hated being inadequate; he hated screwing up. He decided he wouldn't hold back and let the girls hold him. He promised Angela he was going to knock it out of the park and he was going to do just that.

As soon as the photographer reluctantly turned back to his viewfinder, Randy pulled all the girls close to him. Passion burned through his eyes and the images captured just that. Impressed by the sudden turn of events, Markus threw compliments at Randy.

Stacy rolled her eyes when she realized that Markus had changed his view of the wrestler. She knew the shoot focussed on the male models but she wanted to challenge Randy until he couldn't keep up. She pushed Randy against the headboard and pretended to whisper something dirty in his ear. Randy knew what she was trying to do. He knew she couldn't stand the praise he was receiving so she tried to steal the limelight. It wasn't going to happen.

He took her lithe body and crushed it against his. The two other models languidly posed behind the two. The competition to surpass each other continued for the next few frames. The room was heating up and everyone took notice. Markus stood up from his stool and motioned for Angela to come to him. He whispered something in her ear, and the models watched as her eyebrows shot up and a smile formed across her bold, red lips.

"Natalia and Anya, you may return to the dressing room. We won't be needing you for the next few frames." The two girls shrugged their shoulders and crawled out of the bed. Randy and Stacy retreated, finally giving them the chance to study each other.

Stacy was beautiful. Her long blonde hair was curled to appear like bedhead and her eyes smouldered in the dark make-up. Her long limbs and tan skin were luminous. The black lingerie hardly left anything to the imagination. She had lost some weight since her days in the WWE. She looked so thin and vulnerable, but when he looked in her face he could see a familiar fighting spirit.

Randy's blue eyes were almost transparent under the studio light. They looked like they could burn holes through walls. His jaw was clenched and his muscles were taut. She could feel he was agitated, like he wanted to break through his bronze skin and break free.

Markus signalled with his thumbs up and Stacy took notice. She and Randy had a lot of history, but they needed to put that aside right now. She still had a challenge to win.

She inched closer and placed a soft kiss on his collarbone. She tilted her head to the side to face the camera.

Randy reached behind her head and let his fingers wrap around her hair. Stacy arched her neck as Randy trailed kisses from her jaw line to her clavicle.

She shifted behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He turned his head to face her, but she pushed it back as she softly tugged on his earlobe.

The pictures continued to heat up and Markus had almost forgotten he had to cut the shoot by 5PM. He had gone twenty minutes overtime and the owner of the studio angrily spoke with Angela. "That's a wrap," Markus called out. As if they were holding their breaths the entire time, the two former wrestlers exhaled deeply. They took turns shaking Markus' hand as the renowned photographer praised them for making his job easy. At that point, the two didn't care if they were standing in the same room, they exceeded everyone's expectations and everything else didn't matter.

* * *

Stacy fumbled with her folders as she searched for the car keys in her purse. The folders fell into a cluttered pile on the floor as she finally retrieved the keys at the bottom of the bag. She rolled her eyes at her luck and crouched down on the floor to pick up the files and promotional pictures. She noticed a pair of tattooed arms help her with the pile. She glanced up to meet Randy's gaze.

"Hey," he mumbled.

She hurried with the task at hand and pulled the files away from Randy's grasp. She shoved it all in the folder and kept a tighter grip on it this time. Randy stood in front of her and rubbed the back of his head.

"What do you want, Randy?"

"Uh, I don't really know. I saw you dropping your stuff and I helped you – I guess."

She raised her eyebrows and grinned, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"What?" He shot up, "No... no... of course not."

"I beg to differ. I think I made you change the way you feel about me in there," Stacy motioned to the door of the studio.

Randy scoffed, "You wish. But really, Stace, you really knew what you were doing in there. I think Markus was in love with you."

Stacy laughed, "Randy, Markus swings for the other team. If he were in love with somebody it would be you."

Randy's eyes widened and the two shared a laugh. "You heading home?"

"Yeah, I was just going to my car," said Stacy, showing Randy her car keys.

"Let me walk you over to your car," he grinned.

"Oh please, Randy. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to see what car I'm driving so you can judge me." She playfully narrowed her eyes.

He raised his arms in the air, indicating his innocence. But she was right; he was coming with her just to see her car. When Stacy stopped in front of a silver sedan, he couldn't help contain his laugh.

"Ok, lay it on me,"

"A Prius. Stacy, a fucking Prius?" He said it as if she were riding around in a rickshaw. "Stacy Keibler drives a hippie mobile. She probably eats like a rabbit and boycotts plastic water bottles," mocked Randy.

"Shut up," she folded her arms across her chest, "It's not a sin to care for the environment."

"Okay fine. But a Prius? These cars can't go past one-hundred."

"It's not like I run red lights for fun, Randy,"

"You could've gotten a car with a little more power," he pointed out.

"At least it's not a gas-guzzling Hummer."

"I'd have you know, I no longer have that Hummer. I gave it to my brother."

"Well, Sofia would be proud."

At the mention of her name, the smile on Randy's face quickly disappeared. The blonde quickly took notice and regretted her words. She reached to touch his arm. He held her hand for a bit before he let it fall back on her sides.

"Stace –"

"Randy, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's not your fault. It's just – for the last year I've tried my best to get away from it and now I'm here with you and I can't help but be reminded of her."

"I understand."

He shifted his weight to one foot and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, I have to go."

Stacy nodded her head and watched as Randy walked across the parking lot. There was so much pain in his eyes and she couldn't believe it. She needed to talk to him. She needed to listen to his side of the story. She couldn't go on with her life despising the man who meant so much to the most important person in Stacy's life.

"Randy," her touch caused him to stop. He turned around to face the beautiful girl. "Randy, I know we're not in the best terms right now, but would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

He bit his bottom lip.

"It's not a date or anything like that. I just want to talk... as friends."

He looked at her for a moment and nodded.

Stacy smiled, "Meet me tomorrow at the Ivy at 12:30. I'll see you there."

* * *

_How'd you like this chapter? The next one will fill in a lot of gaps and you'll begin to understand the relationship between Randy and Stacy._

_Please, please, please review!_


	3. Ruin

City of Angels

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, danneell14, I Play The Game, and pocketbabexmisanthropy10 . I really appreciate them as I love receiving feedback. And just so it's clear, the story is set in 2007 (although, Orton was actually suspended 2006. Oops. Let's just pretend he was suspended in 2007, Ok? Yay!). This chapter will be quite short but it will be really informative and it'll give some much needed background on Stacy and Randy's relationships and it'll clue you in on why Randy is the way he is. So Read, enjoy and review!_

_

* * *

  
_

12:39

12:40

Stacy Keibler looked across the table to an empty chair. It was a nice day in the city. The sun was shining but the air was cool, and a lot of people had gotten the same idea. They all perched under the umbrellas in the patio of the restaurant. Across the street, there were a throng of photographers following the stars who frequented the L.A. locale. It was probably the wrong idea to pick The Ivy for her talk with Randy, but it was too late to change her mind and let him know. Besides, she didn't have his new phone number.

12:45

Stacy gave herself another five minutes before she would leave the restaurant. The waiter returned for the second time to ask if she was still expecting company. Stacy politely nodded and asked for a refill of her iced tea.

12:48

"Stacy,"

She glanced up to look at Randy Orton. Dressed in a simple white V-neck and faded jeans, Randy pulled the seat across the blonde and settled into the awkward atmosphere. Stacy forced a weak smile and flashed him the time on her Blackberry.

"I'm sorry. Traffic," muttered Randy. He almost didn't come, but he didn't want to stand her up. As fractured as their relationship was, Randy wouldn't admit just how much Stacy meant to him. He did promise her the day before that they would talk.

"It's ok,"

"Have you ordered?"

"Nope, just drinks," said Stacy, refusing to look him in the eye.

Randy took notice of her uneasiness and reached for her hand. He stroked it with his thumb until she finally looked to meet his gaze. "Hey, I said I was sorry,"

His smirk sent waves of memories through her brain. She knew Randy more than most people in the business and she knew the power of that particular smile. It got him out of a lot of trouble, but in the last year it was no longer working for him. Stacy pulled her hand away and rested it on her lap. Randy licked his lips and turned to a waitress that passed their table. He cued for the waitress and she turned back to the twosome.

"We're ready to order."

After the waitress took down their orders, Randy and Stacy forced small talk. He asked how Hollywood was working out for her. Her stint in Dancing with the Stars worked out in her favour for a while. She had landed quite a number of interviews and guest appearances on sitcoms, but the projects were dwindling. Randy talked about common friends in the business but made no mention of the details of his suspension.

"How's John?" asked Stacy.

Randy sneered.

"You've disowned him too?" she remarked coldly. When Stacy was still in the WWE, she knew John Cena and Randy Orton were an inseparable duo. Nothing was strong enough to cause that friendship to crumble - at least that's what she thought.

"More like, we went our separate ways," Randy replied ambiguously.

Stacy gave him a questioning look.

"He thought it was more important to compromise his principles and kiss Vince's ass to keep his position in the company. Basically, he sided with Vince."

"Randy, you know John was the face of the company even when you were still friends."

"But he wasn't playing golf and spending Thanksgiving with the McMahons."

"What?" Stacy replied incredulously, "but it can't be that bad."

He raised his eyebrows, "Really? How about when he told Paul I smoked pot in the locker room."

"It was John?"

"Well, no."

"What? I'm so confused. Didn't you get suspended because someone caught you smoking pot?"

Randy buried his face in his hands. He tried to avoid a conversation about his suspension, but they were already there. "It wasn't the first time, Stace. I'm not stupid enough to get caught the first time. John stopped by my locker room one time and smelled it. He told me off and the next thing I know, Paul's cornered me at the parking lot telling me to stop pissing away opportunities and get my head out of my ass."

Stacy nodded. Paul was known backstage for being in everyone's business but he always had the best intentions for his friends. Randy was one of them.

"How else would Paul have known? John told him. It was the same night. After that, I got all these random visits from people in the crew. I could've sworn they were investigating. I was careful after that, but one time I just needed a fix so bad and I didn't know the lock was broken. Some person from the crew saw me lighting one up and alerted Johnny who alerted Vince."

"What happened next?"

"Vince called me to Stamford the next day and he told me it was the straw that broke the camel's back. I had fucked up one too many times and the pot incident just did it for me. I mean, it's not like I can blame him –"

"That's right. You can't blame Vince," interrupted Stacy.

"What?"

"Come on, don't expect sympathy from me. You know well enough that you failed to comply with the rules. You deserve to be suspended," she said truthfully. The expression on his face turned sour. Suddenly, he wasn't in the mood to continue eating his steak.

"I don't expect you to sympathize with me, Stace, but I didn't do you the favour of coming here to be lectured. Believe me I've heard my fair share."

"And you need it!" Stacy raised her voice, "Ever since she died –"

"I fucked up," whispered Randy, "I know. I fucked up."

"And I don't get that. What does it have to do with you acting like such a jerk-off?"

"You have no idea," he muttered.

"Oh, please. You weren't the only person in her life, Randy. Sofia is my sister."

Randy released his hold of the utensils and clenched his fists tight. His jaw tensed and his eyes sealed to keep any sort of emotion. Any sign of humanity would reveal the fire and passion that burned inside him had ceased. There was no dislocated shoulder or broken collarbone that could match the ruin in his soul.

He pushed himself off the table and threw the napkin on top of his plate.

"But she didn't kill herself because of you."

* * *

How'd you find this chapter? Let me know. Much love, friends :)

P.S. I'm going to include a little teaser for Chapter 4. I think I'll do this after every chapter just to keep things interesting.

* * *

_"Remember that guy last Friday,"_

_"Oh, the one responsible for this," he said while pointing to the bandage on his nose. Lucas grinned. He didn't really care for Stacy's wrestler friends, and he was glad Randy was dealt with by security._

_"Yeah, I'm sorry he did that. I shouldn't have approached him in the first place."_

_"No," he reassured, "he's an old friend of yours. You probably weren't expecting him to have such a temper."_

_Stacy shook her head. She expected it. She had heard about all the stories from her friends in the WWE, about how Randy had changed, and they even asked her to come back because they felt like she knew how to get into his brain. They were wrong. She was just as confused as they were. "I should have been careful. He's at a really rough place right now –"_

_"I don't know, Stace. I don't think you can say anything to defend that guy's actions. I heard he got suspended. What does that tell you about him?"_

_"Randy..." she trailed off, "he's not like that."_

_"How do you know? You didn't date him, did you?"_

_"No."_

_He looked intently at her as he opened another bottle of Corona. Stacy could feel her eyes cloud over as she heard Randy's voice from earlier that day. It was constantly playing in her head. She had never heard it from him before, and she certainly didn't expect it._

_ "My younger sister..._


	4. Ma Soeur

City of Angels

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and faves! You guys are awesome. Anyway, sorry for taking ~forever to upload. I had exams the last two weeks, so I hope you can forgive me. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. READ & REVIEW :)

* * *

The iron gates were cold against her fingertips but she couldn't feel anything at that moment. The sun was setting and casting beautiful light on the villas of her apartment complex. She walked to the pavilion and stood at the edge of the pool. She wanted nothing more than to drown his voice, playing over and over in her head.

"But she didn't kill herself because of you."

"But she didn't kill herself because of you."

"But she didn't kill herself because of you."

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. The scent was familiar, like a blend of amber and teak wood. She turned to look at her neighbour's face. Lucas was a club promoter who lived in the apartment across the pool. Having grown up in Los Angeles all his life, he eagerly welcomed Stacy into the complex and toured her around the city. His connections allowed her to land a contract with a qualified agent and publicist. Lucas was a good friend.

"Hey Luc," she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart," replied Lucas, returning the hug, "what's with the sombre face?"

"Oh, nothing. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Want to talk about it," he cocked his head to his apartment. He could sense Stacy's hesitation. She had finally agreed to go on a date with him the week before, and the night quickly ended when her old friend punched him square in the nose.

"I don't know, Luc. It's pretty personal."

"Well, wouldn't that be better. I can offer a non-judgmental ear."

Stacy smiled. Luc was a good guy and he was patient. He had waited months until she accepted his date offer, but he was respectful enough not to force it and allowed himself to be her friend first. Provided he surprised her with flowers from time to time, he always assured her they were sweet but friendly gestures. After living in the same complex for about four months, she finally agreed to a date. He took her out to dinner and one of his friend's clubs the week before. It was all going well until Randy had shown up. She felt terrible about the incident and she was so worried tending to his crushed nose that she forgot to explain the situation. Stacy figured she owed it to him. She was also beginning to warm up to him so she nodded her head and followed him into his apartment.

The two settled on his couch; each had a beer in hand. She sat comfortably in an Indian position; she smoothed out the creases on her sundress as she spoke.

"Remember that guy last Friday,"

"Oh, the one responsible for this," he said while pointing to the bandage on his nose. Lucas grinned. He didn't really care for Stacy's wrestler friends, and he was glad he was dealt with by security.

"Yeah, I'm sorry he did that. I shouldn't have approached him in the first place."

"No," he reassured, "he's an old friend of yours. You probably weren't expecting him to have such a temper."

Stacy shook her head. She expected it. She had heard about all the stories from her friends in the WWE, about how Randy had changed, and they even asked her to come back because they felt like she knew how to get into his brain. They were wrong. She was just as confused as they were. "I should have been careful. He's at a really rough place right now –"

"I don't know, Stace. I don't think you can say anything to defend that guy's actions. I heard he got suspended. What does that tell you about him?"

"Randy..." she trailed off, "he's not like that."

"How do you know? You didn't date him, did you?"

"No."

He looked intently at her as he opened another bottle of Corona. Stacy could feel her eyes cloud over as she heard Randy's voice from earlier that day. It was constantly playing in her head. She had never heard it from him before, and she certainly didn't expect it.

"My younger sister dated him. Well, more than dated him. They were in a relationship for god-knows-how-long."

"You have a sister? You didn't tell me that."

"She's my step-sister. My mom remarried after my parents' divorce. I was barely three."

He nodded his head and asked her to continue.

"My sister and Randy met at summer camp. He was a senior counsellor and it was her first year as a junior counsellor. They hit it off, I guess, and continued a long distance relationship for almost a year. It ended because they were young and foolish. But, I guess, they never really got over it because when I met him, he kept telling me that I reminded him of someone. One day, we were doing a show in Baltimore and my sister came to support me and that's when they were reunited."

"Then they got together?"

Stacy took a swig of her beer, "Pretty much. They tried to do the friends-thing first but they were like soulmates. They were so different – such opposites – but somehow they worked. They were perfect for each other."

"What happened?"

"I don't know if I can say this," said Stacy, "I've already revealed so much."

He scooted over to sit closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sank into his body and buried her face in his chest. She didn't know Lucas well enough to tell him Sofia's story, but she felt like she was going to burst if she kept it inside her any longer.

"Sofia dealt with depression. She had a lot of psychological problems growing up and she hid it well. No one knew until Randy came into the picture. He spent so much time with her that he figured it out himself and brought her to the doctor. They found out that she was bipolar. They gave her some mood stabilizers and anti-depressants and it helped for the most part. She told us weeks after she found out. I guess, that was the time Randy and I became really good friends. We just cared for her so much."

"She's not here anymore, is she?" asked Lucas. When she broke into sobs, he knew and he pulled her in closer to let her cry in his arms.

* * *

He rubbed his hands over his face as the California sun set before him. He was sitting on the edge of a sea wall; waves crashing against the rocks beneath him. He always brought himself to the ocean whenever he hated himself, whenever his conscience screamed guilt. The sound of the water crashing against the rocks always brought pain. It was more wounding than anyone's spiteful words or looks of discontent. The sound of the water brought him back to a dark place where he lost his will to live.

"Sofia"

Her name escaped his lips in a whisper, but it continued to pound inside of him. His heart felt like it weighed a ton and his lungs refused to open up and let him breathe the salty air.

* * *

_It was the summer of 2002 and Randy Orton was scrambling around backstage looking for Hardcore Holly. He was supposed to meet with Bob earlier to go over the match, but his carpool decided it was more important to stop by a Denny's for an afternoon snack before driving to the arena. He only debuted in the company three months ago, and now he was blowing off plans with veterans. So much for making a good impression, he thought._

"_Have you seen Hardcore Holly?" he asked a crew member. The smaller man only shrugged his shoulders before Randy continued his quest for the mid-carder. _

"_Do you know where I can find Bob's locker room?" _

_No one knew the answers. He caught his breath at the end of the hallway and gave up. He was just going to have to worry about it when he faced him in the ring. He turned around to see a recognizable pair of legs belonging to his favourite diva. Stacy had been friendly from the get-go. She was gorgeous, and had she not been dating Andrew "Test" Martin, he would have asked her out on a date. _

_As he walked towards her, he noticed she was talking to someone who looked really familiar. The biggest grin formed on Randy's face. He couldn't believe it. She averted her gaze from Stacy and looked at the towering figure just a few feet behind her sister. Her jaw dropped; she was speechless._

_Stacy turned around and looked back at Sofia, "You two know each other?"_

_They both couldn't answer. Sofia ran towards him and leaped into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her slender waist. He thought he was dreaming. It had been close to five years since summer camp._

"_Oh my god! Randy!"_

"_Sofia, what are you doing here?"_

"_No way! What happened to the Marines? I thought you said you weren't wrestling –"_

"_My stint in the Marine Corps didn't go over too well, but we'll talk about that another time. Oh god, you look great."_

"_Not too bad yourself," winked Sofia._

_Sofia Foster looked absolutely stunning. Golden brown waves framed her perfect face, that bright smile, and those mesmerizing grey eyes. She was dressed in a small purple sundress that showed off her long legs. He took her in. She had changed so much since camp and as if it wasn't already impossible, she became more beautiful._

_Stacy interrupted his thoughts when she got in between them. The two were so caught up in their reunion that no one bothered to answer her question. Randy was her friend, but she wasn't particularly thrilled that her baby sister had just jumped into his arms. She knew he had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies' man._

"_Stacy! This is Randy... Randy from camp!"_

_Stacy's eyes widened. She couldn't believe it. She had heard so many stories from her then sixteen-year-old sister about this boy she met at camp, this boy who tried to make a long distance relationship work, this boy who became the standard for every boy who wished to date her. This boy was Randy Orton._

"_You wrote those letters?"_

_Randy's face turned a bright red. "Oops," said Sofia, "I might have shared your letters with my sister."_

"_Sofia!" he protested but then he paused and gave them both confused looks, "sisters?"_

_The leggy girls turned to each other and smiled before they faced the baffled Randy Orton. They nodded their heads in unison._

"_We're sisters."_

* * *

He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Punishment was over for the day, now he was treating himself to a therapeutic hour at the gym and then maybe some dope and Wes Anderson films in his hotel room. The hotel had a nice facility in the ground floor so he was lucky he didn't have to go outside to get his gym fix. He pushed the button on the elevator and waited. It stopped at the fifth floor and two girls in bathrobes walked into the tight space. He smirked when he noticed the pair look at him with hungry eyes.

"Heading up to the pool?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Maybe," said one of the girls before they both giggled. She had an Australian accent.

"We could always organize a little swimming party in my Jacuzzi,"

The two girls giggled even more. Randy observed them and noticed their lidded eyes and the faint smell of marijuana in their hair. He could use a distraction.

The elevator doors opened.

"Coming with me?"

* * *

Stacy woke up the next morning in a strange bed. She looked around her and the layout was similar to her bedroom, but all the furniture was different. Last night's events ran through her mind as she recalled crying in Lucas' arms. She swore she never slept with him, nor even kissed him. She looked down to find she was still fully-dressed and the space beside her looked untouched. She walked out of the bedroom and found Lucas asleep on the couch. He looked like an angel with his sandy blonde hair and the perpetual smile curled in his lips.

She leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead. He stirred.

"Good morning, sunshine," said Stacy.

Lucas smiled, his eyes still closed to shield from the sudden burst of morning light.

"I just want to thank you for listening to me last night. I appreciate you letting me stay the night."

"No problem, Stace. Anything for you."

She kissed him on the cheek. He was so sweet. "Anyway, Luc, I have to go. I promised I'd meet with Stella at ten."

Stella was Stacy's agent and a good friend of Lucas' mom. Lucas knew how Stella was with appointments and punctuality so he let her go, but not before he planted a quick peck on her lips. He could tell that it surprised the leggy woman, but her smile when he pulled away confirmed that she wasn't against it.

"I'll see you later, Stacy."

She waved before she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Although the phone was on silent, the vibrating noise forced him to wake up and end the call without checking. He would bother with that later. He looked to his left and found Naomi, the blonde, sleeping soundly beside him. He could have sworn there were two of them last night. But with all the joints smoked and the pills popped, he wasn't certain. Suddenly he saw a form shift under the blanket.

Unless his dick had transformed into a ninety-pound model from Australia, he was certain this was the other girl Mia. He pulled the blanket over his head to check and found Mia in fetal position, her head resting on his right thigh. He couldn't help but smile. He had his share of threesomes but never had he woken up to a girl with her head so close to his crotch. His morning wood only stood more like a Sequoia.

He shifted carefully out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. After a nice, cold shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and found both girls still sound asleep. Mia had pulled herself up on the bed and enveloped her friend in a steamy embrace. Cold shower or not, it was definitely a sight to see. Randy had to get away before temptation would strike again. He pulled a pair of running shorts from his suitcase and slipped on a pair of Nike running shoes.

The hotel was strategically located in one of the busier parts of Hollywood. It was blocks away from theatres and studios, and the sidewalks were lined with magazine and map vendors. He tugged on his shirt to get a waft of cool air into his body. It was a dry and hot day, and he couldn't wait until he passed the five-mile mark and make his way back to the hotel for a swim. He passed by a few magazine stands and stopped when he saw something that instantly caught his eye

He picked it up and looked at the picture in the corner.

It was his face, and in bold letters across the bottom:

_Randy Orton causing trouble in Hollywood._

_

* * *

  
_


	5. No Means No

**Hey! So I was looking through my external HD and found this story, and two chapters which I hadn't posted. It made me interested in writing and finishing this story. So, I guess I'm back!**

* * *

"I don't know how it happened. I didn't know there were cameras in the club."

"Of all the people you could get into a fight with, you decided to pick the son of a congressman?"

"Well, if he hadn't been such a bitch," Randy groaned, "he pushed me."

"Randy..."

"Paul, I appreciate the concern but I can take care of myself. Besides, it's a tabloid. You pay three dollars to read a bunch of lies."

"Don't mistake this phone call for concern. In case you've forgotten, you're still representing the company."

Randy sank into the chair and lifted the beer bottle to his lips, "Unless I'm actually wrestling, I don't think I'm much of a wrestler."

"Keep saying that, Orton, and it'll really happen," said Paul, "Look, everyone's talking about it and I keep hearing, "Randy Orton deserves to get fired," and as happy as I'd be to get rid of someone with an attitude problem, I don't want that person to be you. I don't want to see you piss away this opportunity."

Randy was quiet. Paul was genuinely looking out for him, and for the last year, he had gone so far as to tell him off. In spite of his attitude, Triple H still had his back. "It's not going to happen again. I'm not seeing her anymore."

"Who?" Paul asked, "who aren't you seeing?"

"Stacy," Randy closed his eyes, "she was with the guy and Stacy and I got into a bit of an argument and he stepped in and provoked me."

"Was it about Sofia?"

Didn't anybody understand what kind of effect the utterance of her name had on Randy? No one did.

"What else would it be about?"

"I don't know. I think you two need to talk about it. I've said it a year ago and I'm saying it again. There's no reason for the two of you to hate each other. It just doesn't make any sense."

"She's still pissed because I didn't go to the funeral."

"Did you tell Stacy it was because you couldn't handle it?"

Paul's voice was firm. He never laced his words with any sort of filler. He was always to the point and direct. Whenever Randy was caught in trouble, Paul always knew how to manoeuvre in Randy's head and figure out the causes for his actions. Knowing Randy more than his peers gave Paul the sense of understanding absent in many of the dissenters backstage. He knew the younger wrestler was still hurting over his girlfriend's suicide. Worse, he felt responsible.

"No."

"Then tell her and maybe she'll forgive you. You could put it all behind you. You two don't have to be friends. You just need to move past this destructive relationship."

"I can't."

"What's stopping you, Orton?"

"I can't. She reminds me too much of Sofia."

* * *

Keys always had a way of getting lost when you needed them most. It was Monday night and across the country, Dave Batista was hoisting his championship belt in the air. She tried to watch the WWE to catch a glimpse of her friends, but she didn't follow into the storylines anymore. Raw was ending and she was still outside her apartment.

"Looking for your keys?"

Stacy turned around to see Lucas. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, flip-flops and an Abercrombie shirt. She smiled, "Yeah, I don't know why I keep losing them."

"I'd blame it on that potato sack," said Lucas, pointing toward the large Longchamp purse.

Stacy stuck out her tongue and continued to dig through her things.

"If you can't find it, we can always hang out at my place... like last night."

"Luc," said Stacy, "I appreciate it, but it's late and –"

"Please," he clasped his hands together and gave her the most earnest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen from a grown man.

As soon as they arrived in his apartment, Lucas was quick to offer alcohol. Stacy had a rough day. She met with her agent, who told her that she hadn't gotten a part for a sitcom. She received a call from Trish Stratus, who told her that she had broken up with her boyfriend. She then had to console her friend, and then realized the earth-shattering phone bill that would ensue from a one-hour long distance call to Canada. She deserved a break and a few Martinis.

They had been drinking for an hour now and Stacy could feel the effects of the alcohol in her brain. She giggled at Lucas' stories and jokes even if they weren't funny. He liked to talk about his friends who were all sons of celebrities and politicians. Stacy found it really dull, but she was tipsy and it made his words seem a little more interesting than usual.

"Stacy," called Lucas as he crawled closer to her on the couch. He was on all fours and Stacy was crouched beneath him. He released his weight and fell on top of her.

"Luc," groaned Stacy, "Luc, no... no... get off me."

"Babe, what are you talking about?" he slurred, "I know you want me. I know you want me to fuck you."

Stacy's jaw dropped and she tried to manoeuvre herself out of his hold, but he was much too strong. He wrapped his arms around her and began attacking her neck with wet, sloppy kisses.

"Luc! Let me go!" she cried, but he quickly muffled her voice with his hand. Stacy tried to kick and scream, but there was no way around it.

He forced his lips on hers and shoved his tongue in her mouth. She felt like vomit was rising up her throat. He continued his assault on her neck before kneeling up. He was straddling her waist when he removed his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

She had heard about so many rape rumours in her days in the WWE, but she never imagined it would happen to her. She kept squirming, but he kept a tight hold on her. He pushed her shirt over her head to reveal a lacy, pink bra. He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to her knees. Stacy could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She continued to resist his touch, but she was quickly losing the energy to fight back. He had her. She wouldn't let him. But he had her.

* * *

I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.

"Drink up."

Randy looked up and stared at her for a moment. Who was she? She was a girl he met at the club. He brought her home after she pulverized his groin with her tight ass. They had exchanged a few kisses at the bar. She talked about RPMs when he drove to the hotel in the Ferrari. She had a small tattoo at the nape of her neck; they looked like snake bites. She had dark hair and darker eyes. She was smart. She was sexy. She would probably be a good lay. But she wasn't Sofia.

Randy averted his attention to the pain medication on his bedside. He took three pills and downed it with the vodka in her hand. He just needed to stop feeling. He just wanted to be numb.

Just fuck her. Just fuck her. Just fuck her.

He pulled her against his chest, causing the glass of vodka to spill on the hotel carpet. Randy crushed his lips against hers. His lips travelled down her neck and the back of her ear. Musk.

He pulled away and buried his face in his hands. She looked confused and pissed off. Randy was the hottest guy in the club, and it helped that he drove a Ferrari. But he was also too mysterious, too troubled, too fucked up.

"Pomegranate," Randy smiled.

"What?"

"Her lips tasted like pomegranate."

"What the fuck?" She began to retrieve her things from the floor. She wasn't going to put up with any more of this weird behaviour.

"She smelled like daisies or lilies – I don't know," paused Randy, "I don't know the difference."

"This is too weird and you are fucked up." She left and closed the door, but Randy didn't even bother to look at her.

Randy wanted the memories to come back and wash over him.

He wanted to be consumed by the wave of her memory.

He wanted to be swept away in her sea.

He wanted to die.

He just wanted to be with her.

* * *

Stacy whimpered as Lucas removed his jeans. She could feel his erection through the thin material of his boxers. He kept darting his tongue in her mouth, while his hands tightly gripped her ass. It was clear that Lucas was drunk; but drunk or not, people still had an understanding of the meaning of the word 'no'.

"No, Luc..." Stacy cried as his fingers travelled up her inner thighs. His breathing became light as he suddenly stopped kissing her. Stacy felt his weight crash on top of her.

He had collapsed.

Passed out, Lucas head was resting on the crook of Stacy's neck and his hands were still placed on her inner thighs. She pushed him off and a grunt escaped his lips. Stacy's eyes were dry from tears and the fear from a few seconds earlier began to dissipate. She grabbed her shirt from the floor and took a few steps away from him. Her lips quivered as he, with lidded eyes, tried to reach out for her. His arms fell loosely on the edge of the couch and he fell into a quick, deep sleep. Stacy ran outside and crossed the pavilion to her apartment. She locked the door, ran to her bed and buried herself in the covers. She couldn't sleep that night. All she could do was cry.

* * *

**As always, please read & review!**


	6. A Promise to Protect

**Here's Part 2 of my return to this story. **

**So Lucas forced himself on Stacy but he passed out before he could do anything REALLY serious. Randy's mind is going crazy - is it the drugs or is it the memories of Sofia haunting his brain?**

* * *

People were packed like sardines in the tiny club. The electro-pop was blasting in the speakers and girls dressed in Herve Leger exchanged knowing glances every time a pseudo-celebrity stepped into the club. It was still early but Randy's date – if that's what they call a one-night-stand nowadays – was insistent they go to that particular club so he would meet her friends. They were on time and her friends were late.

Ashley was the daughter of a front man for an eighties rock band. She had a killer pair of legs, flaming red hair, and an undisclosed amount of piercings. The night before, he had let thoughts of Sofia destroy his chances of having sex. It wasn't like he was a sex addict. Sex and drugs were just ways for him to distract himself. With wrestling out of the picture for two months, these were the pastimes he was left with. Tonight, he promised himself he would get back into the swing of things and stop letting Sofia control his life.

"Randy," she whispered into his ear before she nibbled on his earlobe, "my friends are here."

He looked up and instantly recognized the blonde man of the group. It was Stacy's friend from that tabloid-worthy night at the club. Randy rolled his eyes and turned to Ashley. He was going to comment on her choice in friends, but looking at her he wasn't surprised. Sure, she was gorgeous but she lived off her dad's royalties. She didn't go to school, she didn't work, and she wasn't passionate about anything. At that point, it didn't really Randy that Ashley was friends with a guy known for being the club promoting son of a congressman.

"This motherfucker, your date?" asked Lucas, clearly drunk.

"Yes, Luc," Ashley narrowed her eyes, "Meet Randy Orton. Randy, meet Lucas 'asshole' Colwell."

The two didn't shake hands; instead they stared each other down before Lucas spoke. He liked to talk and nothing annoyed Randy more than a guy who only spewed bullshit and didn't know how to shut his mouth.

"Haven't you seen inTouch, Ash?" asked Lucas, "It said I kicked Randy Orton out of The Mink."

Randy raised his eyebrows. He couldn't believe the bullshit coming from this guy.

"Oh, nothing to say again, Orton?" Lucas scoffed, "Unlike your little Stacy last night. I believe she was screaming my name as I fucked her senseless."

Randy's blood rose immediately and he could feel his hands curl into fists and his legs ready to rise.

"Orton, I don't think it's a good idea for you to get violent with me. We both know what happened last time."

Ash held onto Randy's arm but she couldn't stop him from standing up and facing Lucas. Randy cocked his head to the side to suppress his anger. He wasn't ready to hit Lucas right away.

"I dare you to hit me," hissed Randy.

"I don't stoop down to your level,"

"You scared?"

"Fuck, no."

"You should be," smirked Randy as he looked at the colour wash out from Lucas' face.

"I don't have to deal with this shit," he growled, "I already have Stacy."

Randy shook his head. He didn't punch this guy in the face, and he wasn't daring this guy to punch him because of Stacy. He wasn't fighting for her. Lucas was being a little bitch and it infuriated him to have to be in the same room. Now, he kept bringing up Stacy like she was some sort of prize. He was so oblivious.

"I don't give a fuck about Stacy. By all means, fuck her senseless. Just get out of my way." Randy shoved him to the side and walked towards the door. He was outside trying to light up a cigarette when he heard Lucas' exasperating voice.

"Bro," he called dryly, "I didn't fuck her..."

Randy didn't care about Lucas' or Stacy's sex life. Randy didn't even know why Lucas assumed he was fighting for the former diva.

"In fact," he trailed off, "she screamed my name and told me to stop. That bitch!" Lucas raised his beer bottle in the air and stumbled his steps before he caught his balance. "But you know what, Randy Orton, I didn't stop. I didn't listen to that bitch say 'no'. Not to me. I'm not a little bitch. I'm not scared."

At this point, Randy didn't try to suppress his anger and he didn't try to keep his arms hung loosely on his sides. With a hard strike to his left cheek, Lucas fell to the floor. A few cameras flashed before Randy pushed his way to his car. He left the scene, but the photographs were going to catch up quickly.

* * *

As he drove along the freeway, he had one particular destination in mind but he wasn't quite sure where she lived. He debated his options. He could've called one of Stacy's friends; perhaps they knew her address. Then again, they probably wouldn't want to speak with him. He could call John. He recalled John visiting Stacy a few months ago. He hadn't spoken to John since the day of his suspension, and kind words and friendly hugs weren't exactly exchanged the last time they had seen each other. Randy had no other options though.

"John," said Randy, as he heard a muffled sound on the other line.

"What do you need, Randy?"

"I need Stacy's address."

A pause.

"Stacy's address?"

"Look, John, I don't have a lot of time to explain what's going on, but I just know Stacy's in a lot of trouble."

"What trouble?" asked John with genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm not really sure," said Randy, "I have to go see her."

"Why?"

"Just give me her address." He was so exasperated. The night and all the recent events since arriving in Los Angeles was taking a serious toll on him. Randy tried to get away from feeling anything, but the city had a way of bringing the past back into his present.

"Wait," John paused, "247 Bellevue Avenue. She lives in apartment 3. It's the first one on the left when you enter through the front gate."

"Thanks."

"Randy, what's going on? You have to tell me."

"I really don't know," his voice was weak and scared, "I think Stacy might have been raped."

* * *

Randy knocked on her door and waited for an answer. He stood there for five minutes but there was no answer in spite of the lights turned on and music playing from the stereo. He was going to go back to the hotel, but Lucas' drunken spiel reverberated in his head and he couldn't stand the thought of the douchebag forcing himself onto Stacy.

"Stacy, I'm worried about you. I saw Lucas tonight and he –"

Just then, the door opened and Stacy pulled him inside. Dressed in sweat pants and a tank top, Stacy looked scared out of her mind. She had dry tears staining her pretty face and her brown eyes were enclosed by dark, puffy circles. Intuitively, he pulled the trembling girl into a warm embrace. She warmed up into his hug and broke into sobs. He held onto her tighter as his eyes glazed with fire. He was going to get revenge.

When Stacy had settled down, the pair moved to the couch to talk. Randy asked her what happened, and although it wasn't as bad as Randy had thought, he was still angry at Lucas.

"He forced himself onto me but he passed out before he could ever go through with it."

"So he didn't rape you."

"Well, no, not yet. He kissed me and touched me... but no, he didn't rape me."

"It's still sexual assault. Did you call the police?" asked Randy.

Stacy shook her head.

"You should! Call them right now, Stace. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know, Randy. He was drunk –"

"Oh my god, Stacy. Don't be stupid. That's not an excuse."

"He's my friend..."

"Are you serious right now?" he asked incredulously, "This guy nearly rapes you and you still think he's your friend."

"We were dating..."

"It doesn't matter. You weren't ready to have sex with him. You told him 'no'. He should have fucking listened and you should have fucking called the cops as soon as you got home."

"Randy, please. I don't need you to tell me I'm stupid," she said raising a hand to his face.

He raised his voice, "I don't care. Don't you understand what just happened to you?"

Stacy simply nodded as a tear fell down her cheek. Randy lifted her chin and wiped the tear away with his thumb. "Look, Stace. I don't know what kind of rumours you heard about me and the divas backstage, but I would never lay a finger on any of them unless they consented. Never."

"I know."

"Exactly, and that's why I can't let some asshole like him hurt you. In spite of everything, you still mean a lot to me."

Stacy bit her lip. She tried to control the tears from flowing. She knew Randy was right and it was stupid of her to try to defend Lucas' actions and pretend like she wasn't as big of a victim as she actually was.

"I can't help it, Stace," said Randy in a low whisper, "I promised to protect you."

* * *

**As always please read & review! I really want to write this story and I seem to be getting quite a number of hits, but no reviews. What's up with that? :(**


	7. Colombia

**Before I begin, I just want to say thanks to all the people who are reading this story. I looked at my story stats and got 181 hits in the last 3 days. That's pretty awesome! But no new reviews? I don't want to be the person begging for reviews but it is kind of disconcerting not to get any sort of response at all. IDK, I'm really into where this story is heading. Oh well...**

**Let's get on with the story, shall we?**

* * *

She looked up at his tired blue eyes and pulled away from him. "Promised to protect you," – what was that supposed to mean? Did he promise to Sofia? Randy released her from his grip and stood up. He leaned against the door frame like he was ready to leave, but Stacy stood up and grazed her fingers against his arm.

"Why would you promise that?"

Randy looked down at his shoes and bit his lip, "Because she loved you. She cared so much about you but she just felt like she couldn't be there to help you when you needed her because she could barely help herself."

"When did she have this conversation with you?" asked Stacy. She kept her hand on Randy's muscular arm, although it remained limp at his sides.

Randy looked up to meet her gaze, "Almost everyday."

Stacy let go of his arm and stumbled back to the arm rest of her couch. She crossed her arms over her chest – all of a sudden, feeling cold and empty. Despite knowing her sister cared deeply about her, the realization of her loss came spiraling back into her psyche.

"Sofia felt like she wasn't being the sister she could be. She felt inadequate," he started, "I assured her that you loved her just the same and that you understood her situation. She told me that I was just trying to reassure her so that she could focus on getting better, and not have to worry about her relationships with her friends and family."

Stacy nodded. She remembered the last months of Sofia's life, and how distant she had been. For a long time, she blamed Randy for keeping her away. Until that day, she hadn't fully forgiven him for it.

"I asked her if she wanted to see you. I told her I didn't mind flying with her to Baltimore or visiting her parents' house. She always shook her head and told me she was too embarrassed," Randy watched as Stacy vehemently shook her head. He knew that Sofia's words were the furthest thing from the truth. No one in their family thought of her as an embarrassment. She was truly loved by everyone, which made her situation so much more confusing. "She didn't want to bring any problems into your lives. She believed she'd be happier if she knew she wasn't carrying around her problems and sharing it with your family; especially you, Stace," Randy continued.

"I don't want to sound like I was the only person Sofia could be around before it all happened," Randy paused, "but she told me that I was the only person she felt comfortable with."

Stacy narrowed her eyes at Randy. His words weren't laced with pride, but the meaning behind it was insulting and painful. To be told that your own sister felt more comfortable around her boyfriend than her own blood was just ridiculous.

"I'm sorry," he apologized and walked towards her, "I told her numerous times that she could be completely comfortable around your family, but she always resisted. She loved all of you so much and that's why she didn't want to show you who she could become…"

His voice trailed off into a whisper. His eyes were beginning to well up with tears, but he closed his eyes for a few seconds to keep his emotions trapped within him. Although she was deeply hurt by her deceased sister's words, she couldn't blame Randy for them. Stacy sat on the couch and pulled Randy beside her. She reached for his hand and began to knead on it gently, releasing the pent up tension. "I want to hear more," she whispered.

"About her depression?"

"Yes, or anything I didn't know," Stacy replied, "I just want to understand."

Randy looked up at her and tucked a loose strand of hair away from her pretty face, "I'll try to help as much as I can, but I have never come close to understanding myself."

"She would get anxiety attacks on some nights. It was hard with me travelling all the time and her living by herself in our apartment. She would call me up at 2AM sometimes and for the first few seconds, all I could her was her heavy breaths. She was heaving – like she couldn't breathe. Then, she would just cry on the phone and I would try my best to comfort her and make her relax. I'd never mention the pills – not until she's calmed down."

A questioning look came over Stacy's face. At this point, her hands held onto Randy's. She just needed something to hold onto before she risked an emotional breakdown.

"She hated the pills. She hated the idea that they were controlling her. Sofia wanted to be in control over her own health and progress. You know how stubborn she could be. I promised her that the pills were there to help her until she didn't need them anymore. To be honest, I didn't know if it was true but I had to tell her something. I just wanted her to get better."

"Once she'd calmed down, I'd ask her what incited the attack and she'd always try to change the subject. On the phone, if she didn't want to talk about it she would just hang up and turn off her phone. It killed me, Stace. How was I supposed to sleep knowing her mind was in a mess? She never wanted to talk about it. But whenever I'd come home and she got the attacks while I was there, I pressed on her to tell me. She was right there in front of me so there was nowhere else for her to go."

"She told me she felt like she was deteriorating – like her mind and her body were getting weaker. She felt like she couldn't write or capture things in her photographs like she used to. She told me she would get nightmares and she'd wake up with a cold sweat, her heart beating a mile a minute, and her bones trembling. On some occasions, she was in such a daze she would knock things over, punch the walls or throw objects across the room. At that point, I knew that as much as I tried I wasn't going to be enough to help her. So I found her a doctor."

Stacy looked at Randy's bloodshot eyes. His tears were threatening their escape, but he tried to keep it suppressed. For years, he tried to keep his own emotion suppressed to show the love of his life that he could be someone she could rely on – her safe place. Stacy reached over to cup his face. She knew he was emotionally exhausted from reliving those memories, but there was one more thing she needed to know.

"Did she ever tell you when it started or why she started getting these panic attacks?"

Randy leaned into Stacy's touch - the warmth of her hand, easing his apprehension. "Remember when she went on that assignment to Colombia? She was only gone for two weeks but when she came back there was something noticeably different about her. I mean, she was the same Sofia – the same girl I've loved since summer camp, and nothing would have changed that. But at certain moments, she would clam up and be quiet. For days, she wouldn't call me and she'd have her phone turned off. It drove me crazy not knowing how she was doing – if she was even alive. So I asked our neighbors to check on her from time to time. They told me she'd leave at seven for work and she'd be back at five. She never left the apartment except to go to work or if I insisted we go have dinner out, see a show, or walk in the park. Her friends would come over from time to time, but their visits dwindled as time went by. When I'd come home from the tour, she'd be so happy. She would cook me this amazing spread, she'd have a bath ready, new linens, everything was just perfect. Then at the middle of the night, it would all change."

"Stacy, something happened in Colombia. I've asked her about it but every time, she denied it. She never wanted to talk about her trip besides what she had already written in the article. I know something must have happened, but she never told me. I waited too long not to push her into answering," said Randy, "I'm sorry."

* * *

The light sifted through the sheer curtains and reflected against the glass coffee table. Randy watched as the dust particles danced in the air. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from the California sun, but quickly turned his head when he saw a pair of tanned legs in his peripheral.

Dressed in a pair of running shorts and a sports bra, Stacy walked into her kitchen gulping down a bottle of water. She had just returned from her morning run. Her limbs were tired, but the burning feeling made her feel alive. She pulled the white ear buds from her ears and set the iPod on the kitchen counter. She began to start a pot of coffee when she felt a pair of hands rest on her bare shoulders. She didn't expect him to be awake so soon.

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily. His hands were still on her shoulders as he turned his head to the side and kissed her on the cheek.

This action surprised Stacy since he hadn't kissed her on the cheek or hugged her for over a year now. His lips were warm and soft against her skin. She began to wonder how his lips would feel like against her own, but she was snapped back into reality when his hands left her shoulders.

"How's your back?" she asked as she motioned to the suede couch where he spent the night.

"It's all right," said Randy, "I really didn't mind sleeping on the couch. There's no way I was leaving you alone after finding out Lucas lives in the same complex."

At the mention of his name, Stacy bit her lip to try and fight the tears. She never pictured herself as a victim of sexual assault. She worked in the WWE for years and was considered one of the more stronger-willed women in the roster. Randy noticed her uneasiness and walked back towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a hug.

"Don't worry. We'll go to the police today and figure it all out. They probably can't arrest him until they've investigated, but we can probably file for a restraining order. That should keep him away," assured Randy, squeezing her ever so slightly. Stacy rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. The fact that he was relaxed immediately washed away her discomfort. She was beginning to understand why being around Randy Orton – the person and not the persona – could bring someone back into the state of peace.

* * *

The trip to the police station went fairly well. The police needed to interrogate Lucas before they could arrest him, so they assured Randy and Stacy that they would be visiting him that afternoon. The plea for a restraining order needed to be processed before it could be approved, which left Randy worried about Stacy's living situation. He offered for her to stay with him at his hotel, or for him to stay with her at his apartment, but she refused on both offers. She told him that she would be staying with her friend, Charley, in Venice Beach until the restraining order was authorized.

Randy wasn't letting her back into her apartment by herself so he insisted in helping her pack. As they drove from the police station to her complex, he heard Stacy's stomach grumble.

"You need to eat."

"No, Randy, I'm fine. I'll cook some ramen when we get home."

"Ramen?" asked Randy, "that stuff isn't going to fill you up. I have an idea – let's grab something to eat and then I'll drive you home, help you pack, and convoy it over to your friend's house."

"Randy, I already agreed that you'd help me pack but eating out isn't necessary. And I really don't need you ensuring my safety when I'm driving to Charley's. I'll be fine."

Randy took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for Stacy's, "I'm worried about you. I also want to know where your friend lives in case I want to see you…"

"See me?"

"I know seeing you here in LA came off to a rocky start, but I've missed you a lot, Stace. I'm sorry for being a complete asshole the last few days. I'm not making up excuses; I really am sorry."

Stacy squeezed his hand and looked up to meet his gorgeous blue eyes. She secretly loved how they looked blue when he was calm and happy, and turned a silvery grey when he was angry.

"I'm sorry too for being so hard on you. I should have tried to reach out to you sooner. I was being selfish with my own grief, and it just wasn't fair to you. I really hate to admit it," Stacy paused, "but she really did love you most."

Randy shook his head and pulled Stacy in for a hug, "She loved you just the same."

* * *

**Hey! So, this was a chapter to delve deeper into the mental state of Sofia. As she felt like Randy was her safe place, he clearly knows more about her at the time than Stacy did. Even then, Randy doesn't have all the answers, and maybe that's why he's so torn about it - because he doesn't fully understand what compelled the love of his life to commit suicide. **

**Also, how'd you feel about Randy and Stacy's interactions. They seem to be a little touchy-feely, aren't they? **

**Let me know! Please read and REVIEW!**


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